Good morning! Jo has your Monday Morning Warm-Up here, and we have guest author Mike Jung visiting with today’s mini-lesson! Mike is the author of GEEKS, GIRLS, AND SECRET IDENTITIES as well as UNIDENTIFIED SUBURBAN OBJECT. He’s also plays a mean ukulele, and he joins us today to challenge a bit of conventional writing wisdom…

Write About What You Don’t Know

One of the most common pieces of accepted writing wisdom is “write what you know,” meaning…okay, it’s pretty self-explanatory. Of course, every most common piece of accepted writing wisdom has its equal and opposite reaction, and for that one it’s “write what you don’t know,” meaning we should push ourselves, reach outside the comfortable boundaries of our current knowledge, and write about things we don’t know, but want to know, and are willing to learn about. Be diligent and respectful, do your research, have trustworthy people who can read your work with an informed perspective, etc.

Good advice, to be sure. However, HOWEVER, that’s not what I’m talking about in this post, as you can tell by the clever insertion of “about” between “write” and “what.” When I say “write about what you don’t know,” I mean something very different from the aforementioned “write what you don’t know,” because I’m not talking about approaching a story whose core is outside of our existing knowledge or life experience, using research/interviews/travel/etc. in order to fill those gaps of knowledge and experience to the greatest extent possible, then writing about that new knowledge with as much authority as we can muster. What I’m talking about is seizing upon a moment in which we discover a gap in our knowledge, experience, understanding, or worldview, and writing about how and why that gap exists.

I know, super-tricky! How do we write about something we don’t know about if we don’t know about it? Could you be any more confusing, Mike? What kind of writer are you? Maybe an example would be more illuminating. Yes, I’m thinking this blog post through as I write it, sorry. #notsorry

My mother and I have a complicated relationship. I love her, we’re very alike in more than one way, and we have a lot of difficulty communicating. I won’t go into all of the reasons for that difficulty, partly because I still don’t fully understand them all myself, but there’ve been some calamitously large gaps in our knowledge about each other, including my knowledge about her childhood and adolescence in post-WWII Korea. That’s changed to some degree over the past ten years, and the credit for that goes to my wife Miranda, because she’s somehow able to talk to my mother in a way I’m not, and as a result I’ve heard some stories about my family history that I don’t remember ever hearing before, some of them expected, some of them truly harrowing, all of them startling in their unfamiliarity. I knew my brothers were already more familiar with these stories than I was; like I said, it’s very, very complicated.

I really am enough of a creatively opportunistic troglodyte to have very quickly thought about these story fragments (because they did feel like haltingly conveyed fragments to me) as literary raw material. Miranda rightfully thought that those stories held the seeds of a compelling memoir, and that’s how I very briefly thought about them in terms of storytelling (“briefly” because collaborating with family members on any kind of project is a psychological minefield I’m not even remotely ready to walk through). Write what I don’t know, as they say. My mother’s experiences are not my own; would it be possible for me to learn about them to the point where I could write about them authoritatively in any way?

I didn’t know, and I still don’t know, because I ended up doing something quite different, albeit in a very diffuse, long-term, subconscious kind of way. I didn’t write anything that was directly about my mother’s very challenging experiences as a child and teenager in Korea; I thought about them, but I didn’t write about them. And I thought about other things. I thought about how and why it is that my mother and I have such intense troubles with communication; I thought about the shatteringly vast differences in our life experiences, and the equally shattering similarities in how we sometimes approach the world around us; I thought about the fact that there’s so much about my mother’s life that I didn’t know, and still don’t know.

Eventually, gradually, over years, I ended up writing about that lack of knowledge. It wasn’t a linear, A-to-B process, because sorting through the entire history of my relationship with my mother’s not something you do over the course of a couple of lattes, you know what I mean? And I didn’t take these psychological and conversational experiences with my mom in a direct, ripped-from-the-family-headlines kind of way, although there may very well come a day when I do exactly that. What I ended up writing about, years later, was a book called Unidentified Suburban Object in which a character (her name’s Chloe Cho) knows nothing about her parents’ pre-immigration life, tries very, very hard to find out, and then does, with surprising results. The story of Chloe’s parents bears only the most broad and nonspecific resemblance to my parents’ story, and the reason Chloe knows so little isn’t a reason that it’d even be possible to use as an explanation for my lack of knowledge.

Chloe’s emotional reactions are true to life, however. They’re distilled down to their essence in some ways, and my lifetime of pondering these questions gave Chloe a far greater degree of self-awareness and critical inquiry than I ever possessed as a tween-age kid, but there’s real honesty in the emotional underpinnings of that story.

My mini-lesson probably won’t provide any immediate solutions to problems in what you’re writing today. Or heck, maybe it will, but I think of it in longer-view terms than that. Maybe you could try it anyway? Writing doesn’t have to be a short term thing, after all, and actively building the ability to examine our internal selves is one of the most important aspects of doing this work. If we can engage in this kind of self-examination, which can feel so unresolved for so long, we can unearth a wealth of emotional honesty. I value emotional honesty; when it comes to doing the work of writing books for children, it’s probably what I value most. Maybe we can think of this as a way of laying groundwork for future work that’s more polished and more complete.

Today’s assignment: Is there some action, event, period of time, swath of history, or social arena that you didn’t know about, and jarred your sense of self when you learned more? Have you thought about why you didn’t know? How did you finally end up knowing more? Write about that. Don’t write about the thing you didn’t know about; write about the reasons you didn’t know about it. It may feel awkward. It may actually hurt. Write about it anyway. You can do it. You may find that this is one that wants to stay in your notebook for now, but as always, feel free to share a paragraph or two of what you wrote today in the comments if you’d like.

It’s Sunday check-in time, so be sure to stop by Jen’s blog for a group hug and to see how everyone’s doing with their writing this week. 

Our guest here today is Erica Perl, the author of many popular works of fiction for young readers, including Ferocious Fluffity: A Mighty Bitey Class Pet (illustrated by Henry Cole), coming soon from Abrams and The Capybara Conspiracy: A Novel in Three Acts, coming soon from Knopf. Erica’s here today sharing an open letter…to fiction!

Dear Fiction,

How are you? Guessing you look great – you always do! I have a confession to make: I think about you all the time. I know, I know: non-fiction is super hot right now, and I totally get why. Non-fiction helps kids learn about actual circumstances beyond their own and it also validates real experiences they were sure no one else shared. Best of all, it helps them to see the world as full of possibilities, real ones that could actually happen and are supported with back matter and citations and proof. Yep, non-fiction is still packed with all that nutritional oomph but now it’s better-tasting than ever. A non-fiction book is the basis for the hottest show on Broadway, for crying out loud! And have you read any of the Nathan Hale’s Hazardous Tales? Genius! There’s none of that gritty stuff that used to get stuck in your teeth when we were kids, remember that?

And yet… oh, I’m just going to come out and say it. I still love YOU! When I go to the bookstore looking for a new friend, it’s your shelves are my first and foremost destination. Sometimes, I play coy and just admire your jackets, which are often the prettiest in all the land. But even when you have the plainest of wrappers, it’s your inner beauty – your words – that wins me over every time. You always deliver delicious surprises and unexpected developments, even when you swear you are going to be “realistic.” I always defend you, by the way, against those haters that call you “fake” and “made up.” Think about it: Shakespeare and Sophocles could’ve stuck with non-fiction, and then where would we be? Plus, it’s not as if non-fiction has a monopoly on supporting text-based expository writing. I feel I owe it to you because of all you’ve done for me. I mean, you take me to all kinds of new places, some of which are places I thought I already knew, like New York City, or Narnia, or my own heart. And you introduce me to new friends, many of whom are people I didn’t think could possibly exist. Okay, fine, they don’t exist – you are Fiction, after all – but they feel as familiar to me as members of my family.

I know instantly upon meeting them that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. You make me laugh and make me cry, sometimes even on the same page (*cough, cough* Lily and Dunkin), and you make me see the world a little differently every time, in the best possible way. 

That’s why I can’t quit you, Fiction. You had me at Once Upon a Time…

Love Always,

Erica

Today’s writing prompt (if you’re up for some Sunday extra credit!): Write a love letter to an inanimate object or intangible concept. Go!

Good morning and Happy Saturday! Today’s TW guest post is from Erin Hagar, the author of JULIA CHILD: AN EXTRAORDINARY LIFE IN WORDS AND PICTURES and AWESOME MINDS: THE INVENTORS OF LEGO TOYS. Erin’s joining us to talk about the power of play.

Let’s Play: Toys as (another) way into your character

When I was a kid, this was my favorite toy: the Sesame Street Clubhouse. 

I remember spending hours lying on the floor with my dad, helping Bert and Ernie and Grover go down the slide and through the chutes and around the merry-go-round.  My dad found this toy on E-bay a couple of years ago, and my kids and their friends loved it, too.

But looking at this toy dredges up painful memories, too.  When my parents divorced, they fought–a lot, loudly–about where this toy should live.  When I see this toy in my adult home, all these years later, I feel a strange mix of emotions.  

Some toys are just objects. Stuff.  Easily donated to Goodwill when they’ve gathered dust. But others, like my Sesame Street clubhouse, are loaded with meaning and emotion.  They can be loaded in our writing, too. Just as we use setting and dialogue to spotlight character and conflict, objects (and today I’ll focus on toys) can provide a window into our characters.  

 Sure, we could say a character is “competitive.” But wouldn’t it be better to show her marking the deck of Old Maid cards, like I used to do?  Or stealing money from the Monopoly bank? We could label our character a “neatnik.” But what about a scene where he organizes his Lego collection by size and color? Or, even better, showing how he responds when his little sister barges into his room and dumps them all on the floor?

Another great thing about toys is that some of them come to us preloaded with universal associations. Dolls and stuffed animals can mean comfort. A shiny new two-wheeler means independence and freedom. But writers can turn these associations on their heads. Consider this, from Lois Lowry’s Newbery-award winning novel, The Giver: 

Finally, the Nines were resettled in their seats, each having wheeled their bicycle outside where it would be waiting for its owner at the end of the day.  Everyone always chuckled and made small jokes when the Nines rode home for the first time.  “Want me to show you how to ride?” older friends would call, “I know you’ve never been on a bike before.” But invariably, the grinning Nines, who in technical violation of the rule had been practicing secretly for weeks, would mount and ride off in perfect balance, training wheels never touching the ground. (pg. 41)

Yes, bikes in the society Lowry’s created mean freedom and independence, just like in our word. But what does freedom mean when eight-year olds are technically forbidden to ride them?

Toys and play are universal aspects of childhood, but the specific ways your character plays and the specific toys she plays with (or played with, if she’s older) can tell us a lot about your character and the world she inhabits.

Now, let’s play!

Free write activity:  Take a character from your WIP (any age) and think about a toy they might own or used to own.  (The toy doesn’t have to be a part of the work right now, and don’t feel like you have to find a way to force it into your work. This is just an exercise to learn more about your character.)  Free write about that toy, considering some of the following questions:

How did your character get the toy?  Was it a gift?  A hand-me-down?  Did he find it?  Steal it? How did the character feel about getting it?  How does the character feel about the toy now?  

What’s the toy made of?  Is it plush?  China?  Wood?  Plastic?  How does it move?  What condition is it in?  Why?  Where is it in the character’s room?  Displayed in a protective plastic case? Stuffed in the bottom of the closet? Does anyone else want it?  Does anyone make fun of it?  Is it played with?  Alone or with other characters? Under what conditions does your character most want to play with that toy?

Does the toy have a life of its own when the child is away?  If the toy could speak, what would it say?  What would be a memorable occasion in its life?

I’d love to hear if you had any new insights into your character from this exercise. Let me know in the comments!

As always, Friday is feedback day at Teachers Write, so be sure to visit Gae’s blog today to spend some time on mini-critiques.

Friday is also one of our reflection days, and this week, guest author Debbie Reese joins us with a special letter to all of you. Debbie is an activist scholar tribally enrolled at Nambe Pueblo, and her website, American Indians in Children’s Literature is a great resource for educators. 

Dear Fellow Teachers,

When Kate Messner asked me to join Teachers Write, I thought my contribution could be a post titled “Let’s Talk about Native Stories and Native Characters.” As I sat down to think about it—and you—I thought a Dear Teachers letter might work better.

I taught kindergarten and elementary school for several years before I went on to work on my doctorate. Some of that teaching was in public schools but some of it was in boarding schools for Native children. There were striking differences between the public and boarding schools, and between the boarding schools, too (I taught at two different ones), but one thing was true no matter what children I had in my classrooms: they were children whose parents put a certain trust in me. A trust that I’d teach them to the best of my ability, and an implicit trust, too, that I wouldn’t do anything to hurt them.

I grew up at Nambe Pueblo on our reservation in northern New Mexico. I love it there. I can walk outside my door and readily find pottery shards—evidence that the land I live on is land that my ancestors lived on hundreds and hundreds of years ago. If you came to Nambe on one of our ceremonial days when we invite the public to join us for some aspect of it, you’d be driving onto the reservation, and, into our jurisdiction. If you were going too fast, you might get pulled over by our tribal police. You’d be given a ticket that you’d pay at the tribal court.

People who I went to high school with know all about tribal jurisdiction, but some of you may be going “huh?” It is highly unlikely that, though life experience or education, you’ve learned about Native Nations as sovereign entities.

You know those word association tests, where someone says a word or phrase and you’re supposed to reply with whatever comes to mind? If we were to do a form of that, and said “American Indians” or “Native Americans,” chances are very high that a monolithic image is what comes to mind. The image will include feathers, a tipi, a buffalo herd, and maybe a totem pole. Pause your reading for a minute and do an image search on the web, using “American Indian” or “Native American” as your search words. See what I mean? That imagery is everywhere, and it is powerful, and it is a problem.

If you ask a Native person how they wish to be described, they’re likely to tell you they want you to tell your students what their tribal affiliation is, rather than the generic “American Indian” or “Native American” phrases. That request is important for several reasons. It dispels the image of the monolithic Indian but it also adds knowledge about a specific nation.

Let’s look at Cynthia Leitich Smith’s picture book, Jingle Dancer.

In the author’s note, Smith wrote “Jenna [the main character] is a member of the Muscogee Creek Nation.” In her own bio, Smith writes that she’s an enrolled member of the Muscogee Nation. That information can be shared with kids when a teacher decides to use Jingle Dancer. The teacher can show kids a picture of Smith, saying “Here is a photograph of Cynthia Leitich Smith.” And, she can pull down a map and say “Here’s where the Muscogee Nation is located” and, using a computer and projector (or smart board) she can say “and here is the Muscogee Nation’s website.” Doing all of that provides kids with a lot of present-tense information that challenges the pervasive idea that Native peoples are of-the-past.

There are many things in any person’s life that are important. The items they choose to hang on their walls are one example. Do you remember Simms Taback’s Joseph Had a Little Overcoat? It came out in 1999, and won the Caldecott Medal. At the time, I was teaching children’s literature to students in the teacher education program at the University of Illinois. Jewish students in my class were absolutely delighted as they pored over the book. On every page, there was something by the author—who is Jewish—that the rest of us didn’t notice. That book functioned as a mirror for those students, and it provided me and the other students with a window, or an opportunity, for us to learn a little bit about aspects of Jewish people that matter to them.

Those bits are all over the pages of Cynthia Leitich Smith’s picture book Jingle Dancer. On one page, Jenna is watching a video of her grandmother dancing the jingle dance. She’s using it to learn the dance. To the right of the television is a trunk. Many wouldn’t notice the trunk, but to a Native kid, it pops! A lot of us store traditional clothing in those trunks. When Jenna visits Cousin Elizabeth, we see a piece of artwork on the wall that echoes the artistic style of Virginia A. Stroud. I love that bit. I have one of Stroud’s paintings in my house right now!

There’s a lot to know—but with the growing resources on the Internet, there are ways to know that you’ve not had before! Back when I was a teacher, none of these resources were available. I couldn’t afford the membership fees for organizations that publish journals (NCTE publishes Language Arts) that sometimes carry articles about critical literacy, racism, and children’s literature. With that in mind, I created American Indians in Children’s Literature ten years ago. It allows me to put my research in a place where teachers, librarians, and parents can easily find it. I link to full text articles, too. A lot of items are ones I wrote in response to a question from a teacher. AICL is for you. If you want some help, write to me! Put “Kate Messner’s Teacher Camp” in the subject line, and I’ll bump your query to the top of my list.

All children—Native or not—ought to have mirrors and windows. As teachers, you can help change the status quo. I’m willing to help. Write to me.

With respect for the work you do,

Debbie Reese

American Indians in Children’s Literature

dreese.nambe@gmail.com

Twitter: debreese

Good morning! Today’s Quick-Write is from guest author Phil Bildner, who writes picture books like MARVELOUS CORNELIUS as well as the terrific Rip and Red series for middle grade readers. Phil’s here with a fun writing prompt about thought bubbles!

 

Got questions about writing? Our Teachers Write guest authors have answers for you. Today’s official guest author for Q&A Wednesday is Karen Rivers, author of THE GIRL IN THE WELL IS ME and BEFORE WE GO EXTINCT.

You may see other authors popping in to answer questions as well, so ask away!

Good morning! Today’s Tuesday Quick-Write is courtesy of guest author Megan Frazer Blakemore, who writes great middle grade novels like THE WATER CASTLE, THE FRIENDSHIP RIDDLE, THE SPY CATCHERS OF MAPLE HILL, and (new this summer!) THE FIREFLY CODE as well as YA novels like VERY IN PIECES. Megan joins us today with a writing challenge to “feel back” into our younger years. 

I used to work in a small, independent high school where the faculty and students ate together. On the first day of each school year, I would watch the ninth graders step into the dining room and freeze.

These kids came from all over greater Boston, and many did not know any other students. They certainly did not know if there was any sort of protocol about who sat where, and none of them wanted to make a mistake. As I watched, my own stomach twisted and I ached for them.

One of my favorite quotes about writing for children comes from author Charlotte Zolotow who wrote in The Horn Book Magazine: “Many fine writers can write about children but are unable to write for them.… The writers writing about children are looking back. The writers writing for children are feeling back into childhood.” As I sat in that dining room, I was feeling back into childhood, to that social uncertainty.

With that in mind, I invite you to feel back into childhood and revisit the school cafeteria. Write a scene that takes place during lunch. This can be autobiographical, of course, but it need not be. Likewise, the example I provided reveals social awkwardness, but maybe your character is quite confident in this space. Working on a fantasy or science fiction? What does lunch look like in this world? Essentially, please feel free to adapt this prompt to your needs, and share a little of what you wrote in the comments if you’d like. I look forward to reading! 

Good morning! It’s Mini-Lesson Monday at Teachers Write. If you want to start with a warm-up, head on over to Jo’s blog, and then you can come back to today’s mini-lesson.

Our guest author today is Mara Rockliff, who joins us from Pennsylvania. She’s written many historical picture books, including Around America to Win the Vote (coming out August 2) and Mesmerized: How Ben Franklin Solved a Mystery that Baffled All of France. Mara is here today to talk about evaluating the reliability of research sources…

Research sources: whom can we trust?

Hey teachers and librarians! I’m so happy Kate invited me to hang out with you all today. So, I’ll just dive right in and say we’re living in a golden age for research. No matter what we’re interested in, it’s never been so quick and easy to find information. Of course, as we all know, it’s also never been so quick and easy to find information that is wrong!

Teaching students (and ourselves!) how to sift through all that information and decide which sources can be trusted is a daunting task. I mean, there’s basic good advice like “Don’t rely on Wikipedia”—unless you want to write about the Brazilian aardvark. But solid-looking sources can include serious errors, too.

Some researchers use the Two-Source Rule, which says, “If you’re not sure about a fact, look for a second source.” Over the years I’ve learned to add, “…and then it’ll turn out the first source used the second source, or they both got it from the same third source, so if it seems suspicious, keep digging till you figure out what’s going on!” (Okay, it may not be the snappiest rule, but it does help me avoid embarrassing mistakes.)

When I visit schools and talk to students about primary, secondary, and tertiary sources, I like to use the example of a game of Telephone or Whisper Down the Alley, where the information gets more and more garbled as it’s passed along. That’s why the boring-looking, small-print stuff at the back of a book—endnotes and bibliographies—are my favorite part. Why take someone else’s word if I can go back to the source?

But just because a source is primary, that doesn’t mean it can be trusted! When I researched Around America to Win the Vote, I found hundreds of articles printed in newspapers across the country between April and September of 1916. One of them said this:

This struck me as a little fishy. I knew that just driving cross-country was a really big adventure. There weren’t any road maps then. Sometimes there weren’t even any roads! Zigzagging to hit every state would certainly take longer than six months and much more than ten thousand miles.

So where DID they go? I went through all those articles and marked down each stop on a map. When a Philadelphia paper said “Yesterday the suffragists were here,” I put a green marker on Philadelphia. If it also said, “…and now they’ve left for Wilmington,” I put a yellow marker on Wilmington, Delaware. Then, when I found a Baltimore paper saying that the suffragists had just arrived from Wilmington, I could switch that yellow marker to a green one (since the stop had been confirmed) and add a green marker for Baltimore, too. And here’s what I found out about their route.

So, if primary sources can be wrong, and secondary sources can be wrong, and Wikipedia can be really, really wrong…whom can we trust?

We can trust ourselves—to research thoroughly, notice inconsistencies, use our common sense, and keep on digging till we’re satisfied. Let’s call it the “Tons of Sources Plus a Brain Rule.” Yeah, I know, that isn’t very snappy either. But it works!

Today’s assignment is a research challenge from Mara! 

This historical marker stands outside Georgia Gilmore’s former home at 453 Dericote Street in Montgomery, Alabama. It contains three factual errors. The first person to find each error and post it in the comments will receive a signed book for your classroom, your choice of any of my books I have on hand. (I’ve got extras of all but one or two.) If all three errors haven’t been found by 9 p.m. Eastern time, I’ll tell you what they are. Cite your sources, please! 🙂

Now that we’ve been writing together for a couple of weeks, it’s possible that the shiny newness of writing camp is starting to wear off. Maybe you’re looking at your notebook, looking at some of the writing samples shared in comments, and having some doubts about your work. One great solution to that is checking in with Jen on Sundays at her blog Teach Mentor Texts, where you’ll find plenty of support and encouragement. 

Today’s guest essay tackles that topic, too. Our visiting author is Kristen Kittscher, a former middle school English teacher and author of the tween mystery The Wig in the Window (Harper Children’s, 2013) which garnered a starred review from School Library Journal and was named to ten Best of the Year lists. Kristen lives with her husband in Pasadena, home of the Rose Parade—the inspiration for her most recent novel, The Tiara on the Terrace. She joins us today to talk about what to do when we’re doubting our work.

Battling—and Deafeating!—Your Inner Critic

Greetings! By this point in the summer, you are in the thick of things and have been soaking up much wisdom from Kate and her fabulous guest faculty. Hopefully the lessons have inspired you and, slowly but surely, you’re hitting your stride as you work toward your goals. If that’s the case—stop reading now! Wait for more brilliant words of advice tomorrow.

But if you are finding yourself having trouble gaining and keeping momentum as you write, I thought I’d share some of the usual demons that block my own progress – and strategies for shutting down those negative voices.

1. “I just don’t have enough time.” 

When I first started writing, it took me a while to recognize that – more often than not – this lie was my self-doubt masquerading as a practical concern. To beat it, I followed the advice in Dorothea Brande’s brilliant book Becoming a Writer religiously. There’s not enough space to outline her technique here, but basically? Set a time each day – at first for just fifteen minutes – and write anything during that time, even if it’s to complain about not being able to write. Lock away the pages and don’t look back until a week or more passes. When you’ve done that successfully, increase the time and keep at it. It sounds like you’re doing nothing, but in fact, you’re training your unconscious to flow more readily when you need it to. It works. If you’re really having trouble, give it a shot! (Julia Cameron outlined similar techniques later in her The Artist’s Way, which might also be helpful to you.) Other tips: wake up a half hour earlier and write before you do anything else.

2. “My writing isn’t good enough.”

Maybe your writing isn’t good yet. Who cares? It’s not time to judge yet. No one asks a friend who just took up the oboe when she’ll be playing for the New York Philharmonic, but tell a friend you’re writing a novel, and a second later he’ll be breathlessly musing about your being the next J.K. Rowling. It doesn’t make any sense that writing would be different from any other craft, but culturally we (and others) seem to expect it will be. Whether or not you’re any good yet is immaterial. You can only get better – and it’s spending the time that will make you so.

3. “I’m not really very creative.”

Hogwash. Think of the last vivid dream you had. Your unconscious was capable of making all that up, wasn’t it? Writing is simply finding better ways to bring the rich reserves of your unconscious into your conscious mind – where you can give it cohesive form.

4. “How can I be sure this is even worthwhile?”

You’ll never be sure. Even when and if it’s published! Sharing a book with readers is a wonderful, magical experience—and of course our goal with any writing project is to communicate and connect with others—but you will never really know for sure how you are really connecting. The writing and process is the worthwhile part. If you don’t find it so—stop now. Really. You’ll be miserable otherwise.

5. “This will take forever. I’ll never finish.”

Maybe it will take forever. But time will pass whether you finish your writing project or not. It’s really up to you if you’d like to have a finished manuscript by the end of that time passing. If you wrote 500 words a day for five months, you’d have 80,000 words. That’s the length of a typical YA novel. No one’s saying they’ll be usable words, but they’ll be there for you to work with, no matter what. Your inner critic might offer up very different allegedly “practical” concerns, but as long as you remember that most negative voices are either others’ beliefs that you’ve internalized – or your own efforts to impede your unconscious – you’ll get better and better at shoving them aside.

A caveat: if, no matter what, you’re finding it hard to gain a sense of flow, consider that perhaps your unconscious knows something you don’t and that the resistance is serving a real purpose. You might be experiencing some life turmoil, grief, other changes that really make it impossible for you to create right now. And that’s all right. There’s more to life than writing. I think?

Hope you can shut off your critic, enjoy your writing, and absorb some more of the wise words of wisdom to come!

Good morning! Guest author Anne Nesbet joins us for today’s weekend reflection. Anne is the author of THE WRINKLED CROWN, A BOX OF GARGOYLES, and THE CABINET OF EARTHS. As her website says, she writes “curious books for curious people,” and she joins us today to talk about finding the story hidden in your research…

From Research to Story

Since a couple of lessons this week have been about research, I thought it might be worth tackling today one of the most mysterious, wonderful, and (sometimes) difficult phases in a writing project: turning research into story. I prefer to think of this as “finding the story hiding in the research,” because the placebo effect is real, friends, and if I tell myself the story IS THERE, then that means I just have to FIND it, which feels somehow less daunting than making the whole thing up.

(By the way, although here I’m going to be talking about writing stories set in actual moments of history in actually existing places, I know from experience as the author of fantasy novels like THE WRINKLED CROWN, for which I had to learn quite a bit about instrument-making, that the “research-to-story” transition has to be navigated even when we’re writing about magical or imaginary places.)

So where is the seed of the story hiding in our research? And how do we breathe life into that story? My first historical novel comes out this fall from Candlewick; it is called CLOUD AND WALLFISH, and it’s set in East Berlin in 1989. I happened to be living in East Berlin in 1989 and had hundreds of pages of notes on daily life behind the Iron Curtain. Plus my inner archive-rat (very like a pack-rat, but with longer, more elegant whiskers) had carefully collected newspaper clippings, souvenirs, scraps of interesting paper. I had no shortage of research materials! But for twenty-some years those materials lived in their boxes–and the memories of East Berlin lived in my head–without turning into a fictional story. After all, I didn’t start publishing books for children until 2012, so I kept my East German archive without thinking of it as the basis for a novel.

One day that changed. I noticed one item in particular in my collection: the map of East Berlin, with that puddle of blankness where West Berlin was located. East German maps left West Berlin blank, as if its being occupied by the United States, France, and Britain had wiped it entirely off the map.

I looked at that blank spot, and this time I asked myself a question: What would a child do with a map with a blank spot in the middle of it? And I was pretty sure I knew the answer to that question: Fill that blankness with an imaginary world!

And right there I had found the seed of a story. Suddenly a character had slipped into the room: a child who would draw imaginary worlds on the blank parts of a map of Berlin. I wanted to know more about this character: whom he or she might be, where he or she might have come from. And I went through my collection again, rereading my old journals, looking at the old photos, studying the old newspapers, and this time I let my characters (already I was quite sure the child must have a friend, and that one of them must come from the other side of the Wall) guide me through all of this wonderful debris I had been holding onto for so long. “Is this part of your story?” I asked them, pointing to some little piece of history, or picture of the Wall, or a description from my diary of the East Berlin donut stand. “How about this? Or this?” And we figured out together which of these random fact and details might become part of the story, might be woven into fiction.

Whatever sort of story you are writing, research is almost certainly a part of your writing process. (We don’t know everything about anything, after all!) You may be digging through historical materials. You may be trying to remember what the inside of that funny old clothing store looked like on East Main Street, back when you were a kid. You may be researching the possible reproductive habits of dragons! An important first part of the process is creating a collection: your own archive of nifty facts, curious images, maps and quotes. A good collection hums with potential. You have a hunch something can be done with these wonderful objects/pictures/details! It’s just a matter of finding your way in.

As my Berlin story shows, an object in that collection can sometimes create the beginnings of a character: someone who would have loved that object–or hated it–or perhaps who lived in that funny-looking house in that picture–or who used to sneak into a neighbor’s garden to pick strawberries, so much sweeter when they’re still warm from the sun.

Then that character can help you reassess your collection: where (for instance) are the items that generate conflict? How do the items in your collection affect your character? Threaten your character? Fill your character with longing for something he or she doesn’t have? . . . . And soon you’ll find you have more than just a character: you have the makings of a plot!

My East Berlin tale grew into a friendship-and-spying story called CLOUD AND WALLFISH. It comes out this October, so I am now working hard on a new project, inspired by my mother’s childhood in Maine. My mother died relatively young, so I can’t ask her questions directly, alas. But I went back to Maine and spent some time reading through the local newspaper for the year 1941–and was amazed by the treasures I found there. Really, if you ever feel stuck, reading through old newspapers is guaranteed to give you all the new material and inspiration you could possibly want! The ads alone are well worth the effort–I’m still smiling about an ad I found for “Skits Stretchy-Seat Underwear.”

And sometimes you’ll find story-generating gems, like this review of a concert by the town’s new amateur orchestra: “The only discordant note in the entire evening’s performance was a disturbance in the balcony which occurred during the final selection. Later it was disclosed that the disturbance was caused by a musically minded mouse who arrived without having a reserved seat.” !!

It feels like a good day for some research “Show and Tell”: what interesting nuggets do you have in your collection? Is there a particular object or image or anecdote that inspired a recent story of yours? How did your story begin to emerge from your research? Share in the comments! And may wonderful, deep stories grow from the research seeds…..